


Chains

by Pinkelephant42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-18
Updated: 2006-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkelephant42/pseuds/Pinkelephant42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based loosely on the Greek myth of Prometheus; Harry is captured and tortured by the Death Eaters. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chains

It’s bad enough that Harry Potter is supposedly the hero of the wizarding world. He brings light and hope to everyone around him, and they are all counting on him to stop us. He represents everything we are against, and he is the bane of the Dark Lord’s existence.

But now he has stolen something precious to the Dark Lord. Something small and silly; a trinket. A cup with Helga Hufflepuff’s seal on it. But it’s made him angrier than I’ve seen him in a long time.

When our Lord is angry, we bow and give in readily to any demands he gives, even the ridiculous or harmful ones. To do otherwise would mean death. When he is angry, we, his loyal Death Eaters, will do anything for a bit of peace.

Even go after Harry Potter. We all know how dangerous that has become. He is stronger than he ever was before, and he has Aurors protecting him day and night. To go after him directly usually means death.

“Bring him to me!” the Dark Lord bellows. “And don’t kill him. I want him to suffer first.”

It’s easier to capture Potter than we thought it would be. We lure the Aurors into a battle, then gang up on Potter. He can’t fight us all at once, and he’s immobile and wandless before he knows what hit him. 

We Apparate to the designated place, a secluded forest behind the Riddle house, and drop the unconscious hero at the Dark Lord’s feet. He praises us, then has us chain Potter naked and helpless to an outcropping of rock.

Then the Dark Lord pulls me aside. “You have proven yourself to me, Draco. As a reward, I am putting you in charge of Potter. I want to see you hurt him, break him. Each morning I will return to see your progress. Do not disappoint me.”

I bow gratefully. “I will not let you down, my Lord.”

~~~

Once he is gone, I use a spell to revive Potter. He looks completely disoriented for a moment.

“Where?” He spots me. “Malfoy! What…” There is confusion written all over his face. “Where the hell am I?” 

“You are the prisoner of the Dark Lord,” I inform him, “and it is my duty to break you.” I point my wand at him for emphasis.

Potter seems to notice the chains around his wrists and ankles for the first time. He pulls at them, but it’s useless. The chains are magically bound, and can only be broken by the Dark Lord.

I cast a spell, and Potter’s body falls limp. The chains dig into his wrists, supporting his weight.

“What did you do?” he demands.

“A simple paralysis charm. You can’t move, can you?” I ask mockingly. I step up to him, and run my hand across his bare chest. “But you can feel that. Every touch is amplified.”

He takes in a sharp breath as my hand brushes against his nipple. I pull my hand back and step away from him. I raise my wand, slowly and deliberately. He looks at me with eyes full of hate.

“Flagello!” I say. 

Potter cries out as sharp pain slashes across his chest. This spell is like a whip, and thick red lines appear along his skin. I cast the spell again, hitting him in the same place. He bites his lip against the sting. I hit him again, and again, and each time he bites harder. He bites until there is blood running down his chin.

That blood looks striking against his pale skin, and I decide I want to see more of it. I move my wand in a long arc and yell, “Sectumsempra!”

Potter yells as his skin splits from the pale arc of his neck down to his toned abdomen.

It’s a shame, really. Potter is a good-looking guy. If he wasn’t Harry-Sodding-Potter, I could have fun with that body.

This goes on for a few hours, then I leave him there, alone and helpless, and very possibly bleeding to death.

~~~

In the morning I return with the Dark Lord, along with several other Death Eaters. Potter is still hanging limply from bleeding wrists. The Dark Lord places his fingers beneath Potter’s chin and lifts his head. The Boy Who Won’t Be Living Much Longer looks at both of us with eyes full of pain and hatred. Tears and blood stain his cheeks. All in all, he looks wretched.

“You have done well,” the Dark Lord says to me. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” I reply, bowing.

“It appears he will die any moment now,” he says. He raises his wand and casts a series of spells. I can see the life return to our prisoner. His wounds heal, and he begins to struggle against the chains that hold him. “But what fun would that be?”

The sick, sadistic smile on his face turns my stomach a bit, and I say nothing.

“Severus!” he calls, and the potions master steps forward from the throng of Death Eaters gathered around. He holds out his hand expectantly, and Severus presents him with a small bottle of smoking blue liquid. 

The Dark Lord snatches it away and places it against Potter’s lips. “Drink,” he orders.

Potter clamps his mouth firmly shut, and the Dark Lord grabs his cheeks with his spare hand. His long fingers squeeze Potter’s jaw, forcing it open. “Drink!” he demands in a more forceful tone. 

Potter coughs and sputters, trying not to drink the potion that is no doubt vile. The Dark Lord pulls it away, grabs his wand, and yells, “Imperio!” After that, Potter takes the potion willingly.

When the Dark Lord lets the curse go, Potter’s whole body is shuddering, and I’m not sure if it’s from whatever that potion did or the pure hatred that seemed to boil in him. He has been healed completely, however. His wounds, fatigue, and hunger are gone. His eyes hold a life and a hope I haven’t seen since the morning before.

“Draco.” the Dark Lord doesn’t look at me as he addresses me. “I want you to bring him to the brink of death again. I will return tomorrow morning. Do not disappoint me.”

I bow. “Yes, my Lord.”

He leaves, taking the rest of the Death Eaters with him, and I begin working on Potter once more.

~~~

This goes on for some time. I torture Potter during the day, and leave him open and vulnerable during the night. Each morning the Dark Lord heals him, gives him back his strength, only so he can be broken once more.

Eventually, however, the Dark Lord seems to bore of this routine. One morning he gives me a new order, and for the first time, my confidence wavers.

I begin to shake my head, but I can’t disobey him. “Yes, my Lord,” I say, and bow.

“I will be watching,” he says. I don’t know how, but I also don’t doubt it for a moment.

Potter’s freshly healed, naked body hangs helpless before me. Lightly toned muscles lie beneath pale skin. My eyes travel up the curve of his neck to his thin, parted lips, and the green eyes that have lost their vibrancy. His hair is a mess, and his glasses sit precariously on the edge of his nose.

I don’t want to do this, but when I think of the consequences of disobeying my Lord, I realize I have no choice.

Slowly I remove my robes, stripping down so I am equally naked as the boy in front of me. He looks at me with questioning eyes. I put a disabling curse on him so that he can’t fight me, then step up and place a chaste kiss on his lips. It is dry and awkward, and I don’t want to be this close to him.

He gasps into my mouth as I slide my hands down his body, cupping his balls. It takes a while, but eventually we both begin to harden.

I turn him around, letting the chains cross. He rests his head against the cool stone, his chest heaving uncontrollably. But he can’t fight back, can’t protest. All he can do is cry as I force my erection into him.

I try to be gentle at first, but the Dark Lord had commanded it to be rough. I can’t disobey.

I grab his hips and pound into him. Each time I do his body is slammed against the rocks.

When I am done, there is blood mixed with the semen running down his thighs. 

~~~

In the morning, the Dark Lord commends me on my dedication and my ruthlessness before leaving me to my daily task. But when the he leaves, I fall to the grass in front of Potter.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I choke out through uneven sobs.

Potter doesn’t say anything, but he looks a bit shocked.

“I’m a horrible person, and I make an even worse Death Eater,” I admit. I wonder if the Dark Lord can see me, and decide that I don’t care.

We stay like that for several minutes, Potter hanging limply from the rocks, and me kneeling pitifully on the ground, clutching my stomach.

Finally, his harsh, whispered voice breaks the silence. “Let me go, Malfoy.”

I take a deep, almost-calming breath, and look up. His eyes are boring into mine, pleading yet determined. “Let me go, and I’ll get us both out of here.”

I let out a sardonic laugh. “You’re the one who got captured in the first place,” I say. “You couldn’t even save yourself. How do you expect to save us both?”

“I can do it,” Potter says crossly.

“How?” I demand.

He drops his head so his hair falls in front of his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admits.

The truth is, I don’t want to be stuck here any longer either. He may be an idiot, but he’s what I’ve got to work with. Neither of us could make it out of this alone. It’s a very un-Malfoy thing to do, but I am desperate, so I swallow my pride and begin working on the chains, using any spell I can come up with to set Potter free.

Soon we both realize it’s hopeless. The only person who can break the chains is the Dark Lord. I claw at them hopelessly, then, sobbing once more, fall against the boy who has been my rival for so many years. I lay my head against his chest and pound my fist into the rock behind him.

“So much anger, Draco,” comes the familiar voice from behind me. “So much frustration from the boy who tries so hard to defy me.”

I push myself away from Potter and turn to face the Dark Lord. There are still tears in my eyes, but it’s no use 

“It’s all right, Draco,” he says. “I can give you one last chance to redeem yourself.” I try to swallow the thick lump that’s forming in my throat, but I can’t. The Dark Lord points his wand at Harry. “Kill him.”

I shake my head. No, I can’t do it. I’m not a murderer.

He moves his wand to point at me. “Do it, Draco,” he demands.

I slowly raise my wand, and I try to say the curse, but the words won’t come out. Avada Kedavra. The words run half-heartedly through my mind, but never make it past my lips.

“Such a disappointment, Draco,” the Dark Lord says. “I had high hopes for you.”

He points his wand at Potter. “Avada kedavra!” Then the same wand is pointed to me. The world around me stills, and I want to move, to yell, to do something, but I can’t. I can’t move, can’t think. My world has narrowed to the dead boy to my right and the evil in front of me. 

There is green light, then nothingness.


End file.
